


something blue

by carolion



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2013 Draft, Banter, Colorado Avalanche, M/M, Pre-Slash, Tampa Bay Lightning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 05:35:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/876205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolion/pseuds/carolion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jo looks really good in the Lightning's colors. Nate just wants to tell him so. (Or, Nate has a lot of feelings he doesn't really understand, and both boys are dumb and oblivious.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	something blue

**Author's Note:**

> Excuse the title, I am pretty lame and always forget to come up with titles until I'm posting. This could be seen as a continuation of [habits](http://archiveofourown.org/works/874623) but they can be read separately. Apparently I'm just chock full of words for these two. Trust me, I'm as surprised as you.

Nate almost misses it when Jo gets drafted by the Lightning. 

He's in the middle of an interview, devotedly repeating answers about how excited he is to be a part of the Avalanche organization (and he is! Really. But what do they expect him to say? "No I'm terribly disappointed, I was hoping the Penguins would sacrifice a goat and trade up to get me"?) and what an honor it was to be chosen first overall. That, at least, is still blowing his mind. He didn't know who was going to go first - well, he did because Sakic had said over and over that they would use the first pick on him, but still, things can change so rapidly at the draft, and it isn't like he's that much better than the other guys at the top - and it's still a surreal situation. 

He's barely paying attention to the reporters now, as he can hear Steve Yzerman at the podium about to make their pick. He pauses, ears straining above the barrage of questions being hurled at him, until he hears Yzerman say "-from Halifax, Jonathan Drouin" and he snaps his head around so fast he nearly gives himself whiplash. Some people are cheering, and Nate can't help but grin as Jo makes his way on stage. Even from here he can see the pleased little flush on the nape of Jo's neck, and his heart thumps painfully in his chest. Nate is ignoring his media obligations, but no one seems to be that upset, either distracted by the pick themselves, or understanding that he wants to watch his friend put on the Lightning sweater for the first time. 

He does, slipping it over his head with little grace and running his fingers through his hair before putting the cap on as well, and then Jo's smiling broadly for pictures with his arms around his new organization's leaders. He looks good, Nate realizes. He looks really, really good in that sweater. He looks like he belongs there, with the Lightning bolt on his chest, and Nate can't fight down the swell of pride he feels. 

Third overall, god. He's going to light it up in the NHL, Nate just knows it. 

Seth is drafted next, to Nashville, and then Nate kind of loses track of the draft because he's getting led around to different media stations and photo op areas, until he's corralled into a room where Alex Barkov and Jo are waiting awkwardly together. Jo's face relaxes instantly as soon as he sees Nate, and his smile is broad and unabashed.

"Hey," he says, taking three steps forward and curling his fingers in the fabric of Nate's new Avalanche sweater. "Congratulations." 

He's beaming, just totally beaming, and his face is doing that scrunched up thing that always makes Nate's stomach flip over pleasantly, and heat curl at the bottom of his spine. He swallows roughly, but his own smile is threatening to split his face. He reaches out to grip the back of Jo's neck and squeezes, the short bristles of Jo's hair prickling against his skin.

"You too," he says, and laughs. "Third overall, wow." 

"Think I overachieved?" Jo asks, eyebrows quirking wryly. He still hasn't let go of Nate's sweater, so Nate doesn't let go of his neck, stroking his thumb at the soft spot behind Jo's ear. He thinks he sees Jo's eyelids flutter, but he can't be sure.

"Think you underachieved, really," Nate corrects, and Jo laughs brightly, and suddenly they're hugging, tight and fierce. 

He holds Jo tight to his chest and can feel when his laughs turn into shuddering deep breaths. It's a lot, this whole experience, and even though they'd prepared and prepared and gotten themselves amped for it, it's still overwhelming. Nathan himself feels close to falling apart at the seams, just from exhaustion. So he clings to Jo and lets Jo cling to him, their hands fisted in each other's clothes, noses buried in each other's necks. 

It isn't until Alex coughs, politely but clearly, that they unwind from where they've tangled up, and stare sheepishly at each other.

"I'm still here you know," Alex says. He's smiling, but it's thin. "No one wants to congratulate me?" 

"Yeah, oh, sorry dude," Nate says, shaking his head and walking over to shake Alex's hand and pat him on the back. "Congrats. That's awesome." 

It's kind of not awesome, actually. The Panthers are a terrible team right now. But then again, so are the Avalanche, so it's not like he can throw stones.

Alex is rolling his eyes, but smiling a little more sincerely now. "You too. Congratulations." 

Nate can't help but drift back to bump shoulders with Jo as they wait while cameras and lights are being set up. 

"Excited?" He asks. It's a stupid question, but he wants to hear Jo's voice, wants Jo to talk to him. 

"I'm pretty sure that was the easy part," Jo answers calmly, like he hadn't been freaking out a little in Nate's arms not minutes before. "Now the work begins."

Nate blinks and then narrows his eyes at Jo.

"Did you just quote [Darnell's twitter](https://twitter.com/drtwofive/status/351437725259403265) at me?" 

Jo's grin is shit eating. "Hashtag blessed," he says, and even if Nate wasn't looking straight into his face he would have definitely heard the smile in his voice. 

They both crack up. 

"Okay boys," the photographer finally calls, and they're manhandled into position. 

It's an hour of awkwardly posing together and separately, both with props and without, and in between shots Jo gets Nate giggling so much that the photographer threatens to separate them, like naughty schoolchildren. Of course that only gets him going harder, and Jo is no help, just smiling slyly and nudging Nate in the ribs.

Eventually they begin to wrap up, and it's probably the last time Nate is going to see Jo today. He has more media obligations, a few phone interviews, and then his parents are taking him out to dinner. So he taps Jo on the shin gently with the stick the photographer gave him as a prop to get his attention.

"Hey," he says when Jo glances at him. His mouth feels dry suddenly, and he swallows a few times before continuing. "You look good in blue."

He means it. Jo looks - great. Really, really great. 

The smile he gets in return is dazzling.

"Thanks! You too." Jo taps the brim of Nate's Avalanche cap, tilting it down over his eyes. "Brings out your eyes." 

Nate knows he's blushing when he pushes the cap back up.

"It's going to be weird, playing on a team without you," he confesses. 

Jo's face softens. "We'll be okay Mac," he says, voice gentle, and Nate's eyes widen a little in surprise.

Jo never calls him Mac. It's always Nate or Nathan, or when he's particularly annoyed with him, Natty. Mac is a team nickname, sure, but not for Jo. Never for Jo.

"It's the Show, eh?" Jo says, and jostles their elbows together. "This is what we worked so hard for. We're going to be great. It's going to be amazing."

_But I wanted to do it with you,_ Nate doesn't say, because he knows it would be whining. It's selfish, it's so selfish, but he doesn't want Jo to succeed on some other team, with some other teammates, other line mates. He wants to center all Jo's passes. He wants to park in front of the net and be the receiver for all Jo's brilliant plays. He selfishly wants to keep Jo to himself, because Jo is special and Jo is _his_ , and he has been for two years. It's going to hurt, sharing him with Stamkos. 

"We're not even in the same Conference, Jo," Nate says and fuck, there's still a little whine in his voice.

Jo rolls his eyes. 

"Well if you hadn't been such a big shot in the play offs, maybe you would have slipped to second and gone to the Panthers, in Florida, where _I_ will be." 

It's meant as a joke, sort of, but Nate's heart aches for the what-could-have-been. He shakes it off - it's stupid, he's thrilled to have gone first overall and he's excited to play for the Avalanche, with a bunch of great young players. But if he'd gone to Florida... He could have seen Jo more often, or at least played against him more than once a year. 

"How do you think I'd look in red and gold?" He blurts out, stupidly.

Jo's annoyed scowl melts off his face, and his smile is back. It's a different smile than Nate's really seen before, soft and a little sad.

"You look better in blue and maroon," Jo says, and taps his cap again so it falls over Nate's eyes.

By the time Nate pushes it back up, Jo is gone, and someone is steering him in the direction of yet another room full of people with microphones. He sighs, and swallows down the lump of confusing emotions in his throat. 

It is what it is, he tells himself. It's time to let go. 

Easier said than done.


End file.
